


The Path

by Rasalahuge



Series: The Fruit of the Tree [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Biblical References, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mind Control, Season 8, Season 9, The Tree of Knowledge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-29 05:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5116952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasalahuge/pseuds/Rasalahuge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Castiel had understood once.</em><br/>
<em>After weeks of frustration, of growing exhaustion and the ever increasing loss of faith the one thing Castiel had thought he had taken from the Apocalypse was understanding. It was something he hadn’t thought he was able to lose. Yet lose it he had.</em></p><p>Gabriel is gone, the first and only angel to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, the first and only angel to understand humanity and to understand the truth of Free Will. Yet there is another, one who might have followed his footsteps long ago if given the chance. Castiel wished to understand, just as he once had, but the path to understanding is not easy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to 'Tov V'ra'. For new readers: it will probably be worth reading at least chapter 2 in order to understand what the Fruit does. Gabriel's story is only referenced briefly and won't play a huge part in this so you don't need to read the whole thing (feel free to read all of it, but fair warning: it is very sad).
> 
> This story won't be happy but also won't be even half as sad as Tov V'ra. It is almost canon compliant but for a few small details which will become evident in later chapters. I'm not expecting this to be more than four chapters but that may end up being revised. I've tagged it as Destiel but don't expect anything to be resolved, just mutual pining.

There was both in Heaven and on Earth a Tree.

It was a special Tree, existing as it did in both realms at the same time. It was not a pomegranate, nor a fig. It was definitely not an apple.

In all of history, in all of Creation only two Fruits from the Tree had been eaten. The first shared by two humans, a fate that led to them being cast out into the world, young and unprepared. The second had been eaten by an archangel, desperately seeking answers to questions he didn’t even know he was supposed to ask.

The humans thrived, they grew and spread and multiplied and the curse of the Tree was passed on, one generation to the next. An understanding bred right into their very souls that allowed them to learn and to reach further and further. Humanity spread across the globe, broken and dangerous and ruinous but also beautiful and capable of such love and forgiveness that it could leave one breathless.

The archangel was not so fortunate. He had no one to pass his understanding onto, no one who would listen, and no one who would follow his footsteps. He struggled onwards, carrying the weight of Heaven’s fault on his shoulders and eventually it broke him. He shattered. Once a Prince of Heaven, one of the Lord’s greatest and his Messenger he became little more than a shadow and a Trickster. His story ended in tragedy, desperately searching for one last hope, one final light in a sea of darkness.

The Tree brought understanding but it also brought pain. The Serpent didn’t lie – Lucifer had never needed to lie to get his way – the Fruit of the Tree raised one to the same level of God. The Fruit inspired greatness, unlocked potential. Yet it also brought one low, lower than the very least of God’s Creations. The Fruit did not bring about choice but it allowed one to understand that there _was_ a choice and that every choice had a consequence. It was a lesson that Heaven could have stood to learn yet did not try to learn. It wasn’t until the third Fruit was eaten that the change came to Heaven, that someone turned to follow the first archangel’s path and brought Heaven along with him.

It began in the aftermath of the Apocalypse…

***

Castiel had understood once.

After weeks of frustration, of growing exhaustion and the ever increasing loss of faith the one thing Castiel had thought he had taken from the Apocalypse was _understanding_. During his time with the Winchesters he had grown to understand what drove humans, why some made mistakes, why so many struggled so hard against what they were told was their destiny. He had known, instinctively, the difference between Heaven’s righteous surety in the Path and Dean and Sam’s insistence on forging their own. It was an understanding he hadn’t had before, an understanding that he had fought long and hard to gain.

It was something he hadn’t thought he was able to lose. Yet lose it he had.

He started to lose it the moment he awoke in the graveyard which had meant to be a battlefield, when he let his friend drive away, alone and grieving and not realised that it was a mistake. He lost it as he raised the body of the man who had saved the world and didn’t do more than a cursory check to make sure he hadn’t suffered from his stay trapped in a cage with two vengeful archangels. He lost it as he was backed in a corner by another archangel and thought that a deal with a demon was his only option.

Castiel had tried, desperately tried to follow the right path but he had failed. He wanted to say he had known better but really, he hadn’t. As he sat in the Garden, praying to a Father who never answered, his friends lost to him and no idea where to turn he accepted that whatever understanding he had gained during the Apocalypse he had also lost. He didn’t understand humanity anymore, he didn’t understand his friends, and he didn’t understand how he had ended up here so far from the path he had wanted to walk.

It didn’t stop him from following that path to the end but that was just another symptom of what he had lost.

Castiel had understood once.

He didn’t understand any longer.

Then again Castiel had been human once, or as near as made no difference, and now he wasn’t. Now he was so much more and yet so much less.

He wondered if Anna had felt this way. He wondered if she had sensed the dissonance between human and angel. Did she know the difference between understanding and lack of it? He wished she was here still to ask but she wasn’t. He had given her to Heaven and Heaven had destroyed her long before Michael burned her to ash.

It was strange, in the aftermath. After giving up the souls, after being eaten alive from the inside, after waking up with no memory and then remembering in the worst way it was strange to be aware of this lack of understanding but still not understand. He had been wrong, that much was clear; he just didn’t know _why_ it was wrong. He tried to fix his mistake by taking Sam’s pain and insanity but that just made things even more confusing.

The world stopped making sense. The Lucifer in his head, the false one that lived to torment him, did not make it any easier.

Castiel had understood once.

He would like to understand again.

By the time he ended up in Purgatory however he had little hope of every understanding. He expected to simply follow Dean Winchester, to trust that his friend at least understood what he did not. Yet at the same time he could not bring himself to stay. Dean’s very presence was righteous and brilliant and far greater than Castiel himself was, and it left his grace aching with guilt and with longing. He wanted to be worthy of his friend, he wanted to be worthy of the loyalty Dean had showed him but how could he be? He had almost destroyed the world because he didn’t understand any longer and he didn’t know how to explain that to Dean. How could he explain something that was clearly so fundamental to his friend, something Dean did not even have to think about?

So Castiel fled. He spread his wings and flew and ignored Hallucifer laughing in his mind, tormenting him with the idea that Dean would not survive Purgatory without him.

He hadn’t been flying long when he felt it. It was an insistent tug that called him home. It was a feeling of Heaven, of Paradise, even here in this shadowed land. It drew him closer, ever closer and when he landed he couldn’t imagine going anywhere else.

Before him was a Tree.

Purgatory took the form of a forest but the trees of this forest were nothing compared to _this_ Tree. It grew, strong and tall and brilliant amongst the other trees, towering over them as a mountain towers over a mound. Awash with saturated technicolour in a greyed out world it drew the eye towards it, incapable of doing anything else. Hanging from its branches were Fruits. Golden and soft the very sight of them left his mouth watering to say nothing of the scent.

This Tree was familiar. He had seen it many times, flying through the Garden, hurrying past on some duty, desperate to avoid the temptation. None stopped to look at the Tree, not anymore. Its beauty was marred simply by the fact that it was the site of humanity’s original sin, the site of the moment an archangel was forever lost. Yet now Castiel stood, dwarfed by the Tree, and could not tear his eyes from the Fruit.

Gabriel, his mind whispered, Gabriel had understood. Gabriel had _known_.

Gabriel, the sinner. Gabriel, the lost.

Gabriel who had looked at Castiel with pity and guilt and sorrow and a hundred other emotions Castiel had not wanted to name, trapped in that holy fire, broken and hurt and still as beautiful as he had ever been. Gabriel who had sat with Castiel looking out over the world and who had sympathised with him, who had seen the beauty in the world whatever scars it wore. Gabriel who had given his life for the Winchesters and who had given them hope in the darkest moment just as he had always wished to do.

Gabriel had understood because he had eaten the Fruit.

“Is this why my brother?” Castiel asked a shade that did not exist.

_“Why what?”_ Hallucifer asked stood at Castiel’s shoulder, _“It’s a very pretty Tree isn’t it?”_ he enquired. A flash and suddenly he was a serpent hanging from the Tree’s branches. _“What do you say little brother?”_ Hallucifer asked his voice a hiss. _“You’ve been God once before.”_

“It this why you ate?” Castiel ignored the hallucination, “I remember, you didn’t understand humanity, didn’t understand why they continued to sin. Were you asking questions then that I ask now?” he swallowed.

_“The Fruit can answer your questions you know,”_ Hallucifer hissed, _“It doesn’t need to be a curse. You aren’t Gabriel little brother, and you aren’t Eve either. You’ve been God, you’ve been_ human _. Taking a bite won’t change that, but it will open your eyes. All the knowledge, all the understanding that you’ve lost would be restored. You wouldn’t have to pretend to understand to Dean anymore. You just would,”_

“Is that how it works?” Castiel asked trying to pretend he was still asking the shade of his dead brother and not the serpent winding its coils around the branches. “I was human, and humans understand. Humans know. Then I wasn’t human anymore I was an angel and we angels, we don’t know do we? We never ate from the Tree. After all wasn’t that the point?” The last words that slipped from his tongue sent an echo of a much older conversation running through him. A confused archangel, a bemused angel and one of the most beautiful sights in Heaven.

_“You blame yourself for what Gabriel did. You think ‘if only I had said something differently, been more reassuring, he never would have been lost’,”_ Hallucifer said knowingly, tormenting with Castiel’s own memories. _“You drove him to this.”_ The serpent had a clever tongue Castiel knew, he always had. _“Don’t you want to know; don’t you want to understand why? You carry the guilt anyway; don’t you want to know_ why?"

“I want to understand,” Castiel said reluctantly, “But it is forbidden,”

_“As if that has ever stopped you before,”_ Hallucifer laughed, a terrible sound, _“What happened to doing the right thing Castiel, no matter the consequences? How can you do that if you don’t know what the right thing is?”_

The hallucination was, unfortunately, correct. Castiel didn’t know what the right path was anymore. He had thought he was following it and had only made things worse, nearly damning the world for his crimes. He still didn’t understand why it had been wrong. Surely standing up to Raphael, preventing her from starting a new Apocalypse was right? The only way for him to do that was to deal with Crowley, to gain the souls he needed to overpower the archangel. Yet apparently despite being the only option it wasn’t the right one and Castiel _didn’t know why_.

If he ate the Fruit he would know.

The Fruit however was forbidden. After Gabriel no angel had dared Michael’s wrath by even approaching the Tree. Castiel remembered one cherub had gone to lay flowers there and to weep for Heaven’s loss not long after Gabriel vanished. Raphael had intercepted her, brought her before Michael and no one had heard from her again. She had probably been killed, Castiel realised, though at the time none had dared even think such a thing.

Michael wasn’t around anymore, neither was Raphael. Even if they were Castiel was in Purgatory, the only one for hundreds of miles who might care about Castiel’s fate was Dean and the angel had left him behind hours ago. No one could stop him and the serpent was right, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t broken Heaven’s edicts before.

_“Eat Castiel. Eat little brother and understand.”_ Hallucifer goaded.

Castiel had understood once. He wanted to understand again.

He reached for one of the Fruits.

The flesh was sweet, the sweetest thing that Castiel had ever eaten. It was an explosion of flavour across his tongue. He wondered if this was why Gabriel so loved candy.

Then, like a thunderbolt, Castiel understood.

The aftertaste was bitter.

Castiel felt to his knees, the remains of the Fruit bouncing down into the dirt as he stared up at the Tree.

He understood.

_He understood._

Tears burnt at his eyes, sobs tore at his chest as the angel buried his face in his hands and wept.

In the tree the serpent hissed in triumph and in victory. Then it melted away into nothingness, its purpose fulfilled. The angel might not have been the original victim of this curse but it was still broken, just as Lucifer had wanted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only 2 weeks late but never mind. Maybe now this chapter's done i can concentrate on the next for 'Chronicles of a Young God'... I'm not counting on it though!
> 
> Warning: Cas cries again but they're healing tears at least? Also - brainwashing

_It was too much. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. What had he done?_

Purgatory was not a good place for introspection Castiel found out quickly. Few of the denizens of this realm would approach the Tree but after eating Castiel found it difficult to stand in its presence. Whenever he found himself looking up at its verdant leaves and sweet golden Fruit he felt something dark and bleak and hot bubble up in his chest. If he continued to stare for too long he thought perhaps he could see the Serpent again and quickly fled. Away from the Tree he was exposed to the creatures of Purgatory, and to the Leviathans that hunted him, but that was a small price to pay not to gaze on his failure.

_He had failed, again and again he failed. He had only ever wanted to do the right thing and look where it had brought him. He had failed. What had he done?_

Dean wouldn’t stop hunting him, wouldn’t stop chasing him no matter how far Castiel ran. It was as if the human didn’t realise that Castiel was not worth saving, as if he didn’t know Castiel would only bring him and everyone else more harm. Yet Castiel knew now, he understood once more what he had during the Apocalypse. He understood Dean, understood why his friend couldn’t give up, because Dean had been taught his whole life that his worth was measured by how well he cared for his family. Castiel was family and that had a very different connotation among humanity as to angels.

_Understanding hurt. He had forgotten how much it hurt, what pain it left lingering in his heart. He understood but at the same time he didn’t and yet he did. It hurt. It was contradiction, knowing and not knowing and his head spun. What had he done?_

Purgatory, prison though it was, was easy. There was no time to dwell on pained thoughts, no time to over think his past actions or his new understanding. Purgatory was a constant battle with its occupants, with himself and with Dean. It was peace and it was penance. It was where Castiel belonged, broken as he was. It was why he threw off Dean’s hand, allowed the Leviathans to lead him away from the portal. It was why he did not try to break out alone – not that he could as exhausted and overwhelmed as he was. It was why, when he found himself walking along the side of the road on Earth, he almost fell to his knees and wept for the loss.

  
_He shouldn’t be out. He didn’t deserve it. He was a sinner, broken and lost and Purgatory was his penance. He had done so much wrong. How could he even begin to fix it? What had he done?_

_What had he forgotten?_  


Purgatory was simple, Earth was not and Castiel looked out at it with newly opened eyes. His hard won understanding last time, when he had been human, had been focused, driven towards the Apocalypse. This time it almost lashed outwards. Everything was so dizzyingly disorientating. Motives and causes; subtle words and double meanings… He longed for someone, anyone to see he was drowning in this knowledge. He longed for someone, anyone (Dean) to reach out and anchor him just for a short while. Just long enough that he could regain his focus and not drown. But Crowley had the next Prophets, had Kevin and the tablet and Dean was suspicious and Sam was too relieved and there was no time. Castiel was exhausted, drained of everything and every sense, ever emotion was overloaded but they were his friends (his family) and they needed him.

**There was Naomi. Who was she? Why did she want him? What did she expect him to do? What use was he, sinner as he was? She couldn’t make him betray his friends. He wouldn’t. He was a sinner but he wouldn’t. She couldn–**

  
_He didn’t deserve to be here, he would only hurt his friends. What had he done?_

_What had he forgotten?_  


Castiel didn’t know how Gabriel had done it. He didn’t know how humans did it every day. The constant onwards slog. Except some humans didn’t, the psychic friend of the Winchester’s was one. Castiel had thought he could be a hunter, could do his penance that way as he had in Purgatory but he was not suited. Maybe though he could do it this way; he could help people rather than kill things. He didn’t like killing things. He remembered when the hallucination turned the world inside out in his head and he had fled from conflict. He wished he could flee now. He needed to stop, to pause just for a moment, just to catch his breath but he couldn’t he just went on and on and on…

**Naomi again. How did he forget about her? What did she want? Penance? Yes he would do his penance but not for her she is not one of those he wronged. He would not be at her beck and call he would not–**

  
_Penance. He had to do penance. How could he be forgiven for his sins (and he was a sinner now for all that he had not understood before he understood now) if he did not do penance? He would help people, heal people, he would earn forgiveness…_

_What had he forgotten?_  


**Samandiriel? Crowley had Samandiriel? Of course he would save him, why would he not? He didn’t trust Naomi, but he could trust his friends. He could ask–**

It wasn’t until his brother’s body is in his arms that he realises something is very wrong, something that is nothing to do with the Tree, nothing to do with the Fruit. Something is wrong and he doesn’t know what except that Sam and Dean are suspicious and he is sure that he has forgotten something. Samandiriel said that someone was controlling them. Why does the name Naomi frighten him so much? He isn’t being controlled, he makes his own decisions, and he accepts the consequences of those decisions. That was the point after all. Yet why is he so afraid?

Why does he think that perhaps it hadn’t been self-defence? He didn’t remember Samandiriel attacking him but he must have because Samandiriel was dead and he wouldn’t kill one of his brothers. Not again, not ever again, not unless they gave him no other choice.

He returns Samandiriel’s body to Heaven, because breaking under Crowley’s hands is not the same as willingly bringing ruin to Heaven, and then he returns back to Earth and to his penance.

**Nearly ready? What does Naomi mean nearly read–**

_What has he forgotten?_

He feels wrong. His skin too tight, his vessel too constraining. Something is wrong with him and he knows that but he doesn’t know what. He needs to stop and breathe; he needs to pause just for a minute. He is still reeling from Purgatory, still reeling from the Tree. He understands but doesn’t understand and he just wants to stop, for one minute. He is sure if he does then the wrong feeling will make sense, he’ll understand and he’ll be able to get rid of it. There’s a frantic feeling, overwhelming and hot and his vessel’s heart hammers in his chest. It feels almost like panic but it isn’t.

He just needs to stop, just for a minute.

Please, someone, let him stop. Let him absorb all of this. Let him come to grips.

Please.

_Please._

  
_**What has he forgotten?** _

 

The world stops.

It’s as if someone has pressed a pause button.

The wind is still blowing through the trees, the leaves still rustle, the children still play on the park not far away but suddenly it is like a weight has been relieved from his shoulders. He is still overwhelmed and panicky but he is not rushing and frantic, something warm and calm and soothing rushes through him and he can breathe again.

“You know,” A strangely familiar voice cut through Castiel’s thoughts, “Penance is all well and good but sometimes it’s not about others forgiving you but you forgiving yourself,”

The angel turned to the voice in question and stared, confused, as his eyes landed on a Prophet of the Lord who really should have been dead. Chuck Shurley was sat on the grass, his back against a tree, watching him. The man had a pair of glasses perched on his nose, a pen behind each ear and another in his hand and a notebook propped against his knee. Beside him was a large pile of notebooks and an even larger flask of what was probably coffee.

“Chuck Shurley,” Castiel frowned moving towards the man. It was impossible, surely? Kevin was the Prophet and everything Castiel knew about Prophets said there could only be one at once. “I thought you were dead,”

“The answer to that is quite complicated,” Chuck replied with a smile, “Have a seat Castiel,” He indicated the grass beside him and Castiel went. There was something strange about the man, something in his eyes that went deeper than visions, something in his demeanour that was more than just a host to the Lord’s Word but it was nothing Castiel could put his finger on.

Chuck didn’t speak, not for a long time. As if he understood that Castiel needed desperately to take advantage of this brief peace. Instead he turned back to his notebook and started to write. Castiel watched him for a little while, his thoughts not rushing about for once, but something told him this was not just another Supernatural book.

“Where have you been?” Castiel asked eventually, still confused by the Prophet’s presence but Chuck shrugged.

“Oh all sorts of places,” he said.

“You’re writing?” Castiel asked with a frown, “More _Supernatural_ books?”

“Not exactly,” Chuck answered, “And I’m editing, not writing.” He flicked his pen up, the tip red, and showed Castiel the page he was working on. Most of it was already covered with writing in black ink, except where the black had been written over by the same red as his pen. “It’s much easier to get things right in retrospect, when you have a better understanding of everything that went before. That’s why humans say ‘hindsight is twenty-twenty’,” He told the angel and Castiel swallowed.

“I’m not sure I understand everything that went before.” He confessed, it was fairly clear he realised that Chuck knew what he had done, probably he had some kind of vision about it, “I _understand_ in a way I didn’t before but there are so many things that don’t make any sense,”

“That’s because you only know half the story,” Chuck answered easily putting the cap back on his pen and setting it down. “You can’t understand something if you don’t have all the information, Fruit or not,”

“What am I missing?” Castiel asked and Chuck leant forward.

“Well first of all, about half your memories from the last few months,” He said reaching out with one hand to touch Castiel’s face. A part of the angel wanted to flinch away, to stop the man from touching him, from doing… whatever it was he was planning on doing. “Let’s get Naomi out of there shall we?” He asked as his fingers brushed against Castiel’s temple. Like a flower bud Castiel’s mind seemed to open, the tight knot in his chest unfurled as memory upon memory was released. He remembered Purgatory, he remembered the angels coming for him and he remembered Naomi. He remembered Naomi and her orders, using Castiel, moulding him into… into what? That part wasn’t clear except that she wanted him suffering; she wanted him desperately seeking penance.

“What… how did you do that?” Castiel stared into calm grey eyes.

“As I said, it’s complicated,” Chuck replied, “Is that better?” He asked and Castiel turned his thoughts inwards. Yes, yes it was better. The frantic feeling was gone; the painful knowledge that he’d forgotten something but having no idea what it was he’d forgotten. Yet no, it was not better. He’d killed Samandiriel. He had killed his brother after promising himself never again to take a life except in self-defence.

“What did she do to me?” Castiel asked.

“She took away your Free Will, attempting to turn you into her weapon, into her ideal of an angel,” Chuck answered pulling away to lean against the tree again. “It’s not the first time she’s done this, not even the first time she’s done it to _you_ but that’s more or less irrelevant. What she’s doing now is far more important,”

“I didn’t think Free Will was something you could take away,” Castiel mused, frowning.

“It isn’t, not really,” Chuck answered, “But Naomi doesn’t understand that. She can’t,” His expression said everything that his words did not and Castiel knew immediately what he was saying.

“She hasn’t eaten the Fruit. None of them have,” He said and Chuck nodded, “They have Free Will, but they don’t understand it or what it means. That’s why I could never explain it to them, after the Apocalypse.” He broke off then, turned his eyes away from that knowing look, “ _I_ didn’t understand it,”

“It shouldn’t have been a surprise,” Chuck sighed, “Anna lost her ability to understand when she went from human to angel but I had hoped…” He broke off and chuckled sadly. “I spend far too much time hoping these days but then that was the choice I made. If I choose not to intervene I have to accept that sometimes things won’t go the way I want them too. That’s the consequence of choice, after all, and what all this has been about,” The words confused Castiel, it didn’t make any sense for Chuck to be saying this, what part did he have but to write down the Word? Yet as Castiel lifted his eyes back to that familiar face he was struck with the fact that he wasn’t looking at a former Prophet he was looking at something infinitely _more_.

The Revelation when it came was painful.

“Father,” Castiel whispered and Chuck smiled sadly at him. “I… you… I don’t understand,”

“You do,” His father answered, “You just don’t want to, because it hurts.”

“I thought the Apocalypse was about Free Will triumphing over Destiny,” Castiel said quietly, “That was why you didn’t intervene, because it had to be humanity – the epitome of Free Will – who stopped it,”

“You aren’t wrong,” His father replied, “It’s just that wasn’t _all_ it was. It wasn’t about giving angels Free Will, they already had it, or overturning the prophecy of the Apocalypse, because that was always bullshit, it was about _consequence_.”

“About choosing the right path, for the right reasons and accepting the consequences of that,” Castiel closed his eyes because he _did_ understand, “Lucifer chose the wrong path, didn’t care to accept blame for his own actions and refused to see that what he did was wrong. Michael chose the wrong path for the _right_ reasons, he wanted to do as you commanded, to protect the world but couldn’t understand that scorching half of it and murdering his brother was not an acceptable sacrifice.” Castiel grimaced, “I did the same didn’t I? Afterwards. I wanted to protect Earth, protect my friends but I couldn’t see another way and so I followed Crowley because I didn’t understand the consequences of that choice,”

“You couldn’t have understood,” The reply was gentle.

“If I had asked Dean, that day, if I had interrupted him and begged for his help… would I still have made a mess of everything?” Castiel asked opening his eyes once more.

“No one can say what would have been,” God said, “Not even me. I can give you every possibility, every path you might have walked, and there are _billions_ of them, but in the end by gifting everyone with Free Will I purposefully prevented myself from saying ‘this is how it will be’. I don’t make choices for you, not anymore,”

“What do I do now?” Castiel asked, pleaded because he knew what he had done wrong but how was he meant to move on from this? He had done so much damage…

“I told Gabriel once, long ago, that there is a difference between doing wrong and sinning.” God told him, “When you sin you understand, you know what you did wrong and you can learn from it. That is why a sinner can always been redeemed Castiel, because so long as you learn from your mistakes and grow from them, use them to become a better version of yourself then I will always, _always_ forgive you,” Castiel swallowed heavily.

“I don’t deserve forgiveness. Everything I have done…” He broke off, unable to name them. There were too many. The War, breaking Sam’s wall, opening Purgatory, playing at god, releasing the Leviathan…

“There is also a difference between fault and responsibility,” God continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “Fault is when you know you are making a mistake and do it anyway; responsibility is when you make an honest mistake and something terrible happens. You hold responsibility for the war, for what happened after taking those souls and for releasing the Leviathan but the first you were trying to help your siblings and protect the Earth and the other two were consequences you didn’t even know were possible. Your only _fault_ Castiel was persisting down the path to opening Purgatory once you realised you were making a mistake and for that you have done more than enough penance.”

“I…” Castiel was rendered speechless, having no idea how to respond to that. An ache blossomed in his heart, a desperate longing to be forgiven, to just let it all go and forget but he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t allow himself to fall into that trap again.

“The first thing I said, if you remember, is that sometimes it is not being forgiven that matters but forgiving yourself,” God said kindly, his face gentle and Castiel felt his eyes sting with tears. “ _I_ forgive you Castiel; you can take a little time to forgive yourself,”

“I don’t know if I have that time,” Castiel said quietly, “Naomi won’t let me go,”

“Her hold over you will not last forever,” God answered, “Even when you leave this place and she calls you back to Heaven she will not be able to take your memories again. You’ll find a way to escape from her,”

Castiel nodded, starting to feel overwhelmed again, but he didn’t bother asking if his father would do something to stop Naomi. As he said, Castiel understood, even if he didn’t like it. It was time the angels started to learn the consequences of their actions because beings with Free Will couldn’t rely on God telling them what to do forever. His eyes drifted to the floor and God sighed somewhere above him. A moment later Castiel was engulfed in a hug. It was warm and comfortable and it screamed SAFE to every single one of his instincts. The knot inside him loosened that last little bit and he fell into the embrace, the tight controls over his emotions splintering. Castiel sobbed once, twice and then fell apart.

He had never felt so low, never felt so lost and overwhelmed and never dreaded the future so much. He was alone, he was lost and he was the puppet of someone who terrified him yet at the same time he had never had such _hope_. For the first time in so very long Castiel _hoped_. Finally he could see a way forward, a way to help his siblings; to fix everything that had been broken that didn’t involve also hurting his friends. It was at once both wonderful and terrible and he was so, _so_ grateful for the arms around him, anchoring him as he cried out healing tears.

It felt terrible now but maybe one day, in the distant future, things would finally, finally be okay.


End file.
